Coming Down
by Stabson
Summary: They can't stop. They don't want to stop.


A/N: I don't really know what this is. Okay, I do know what this is. It's smut, plain and simple. Well, smut with a breath of a story underneath it. Hope you get it. If not... well, it's smut, so there's that. Lol.

Enjoy.

* * *

They tried to stop. Really, they did, but between these sheets in the dark room, they need each other like they need oxygen and not having this would be like not breathing. So, once again, she finds herself tucked between her mattress and his body. His hands are still cold from the freezing wind outside as they run down the skin of her neck, but his lips are hot as they follow, alternating between sucking and grazing his teeth down the trail his hands have made. The sharp contrast sends shivers over her skin and she can't help the moan that falls past her lips.

"Elliot," she whispers, hands grasping at the hair on the back of his head. He raises his mouth to hers. His lips are sweet and soft, his hips hard as they rock into her. "W-we should…" _Stop._ They have to stop. But she can't stop- not tonight, not how ever many times before tonight.

 _/_

 _She'd only asked him to go out for a bite. An early breakfast, a chance to ease the tension that had taken over their partnership. It had been a long time since they talked,_ ** _really_** _talked. She missed her best friend- the best friend that had her pinned between the wall and his body at the moment. She wasn't sure which one was harder- which one would yield more easily if she tried to escape. But who was she kidding? She couldn't pull away from his grasp. She needed him. Needed his lips, his body, rigid as it pressed against her, holding her in place._

 _His forehead dropped against hers and his breath came out in puffs against her neck. She nearly jumped as his hands found their way under her shirt and brushed along her sides._

 _/_

He stares at her, chest raising and falling with each shaking breath, waiting. Waiting for her to pull away from him, waiting for her to push him off, but she doesn't and finally, he leans down again and kisses her. Her fingers betray her as they pull at his clothes. She manages to unfasten each button of his dress shirt before he rocks back on his heels, kneeling between her legs as he pulls her torso up from the mattress to get her shirt over her head and bra unclasped. As soon as her bare back is resting against the cool sheet, she shoves the shirt from his shoulders and takes a moment to admire his rippling muscles, from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist where her view of his bare skin is interrupted by the seam of his trousers.

It's cliche as all hell to say that he's built like a god- it's taking the credit away from him, because he wasn't just built this way, he does everything in his power to keep his body in this shape. She's seen him pound the heavy bag like it's his worst enemy, she's seen him groan and breath as he lifts impossible amounts of weight, each muscle straining, from his bulging biceps to his powerful thighs. Thighs that, even then, she wanted to be pinned down by, thighs that she wanted pressed against hers as another hard, rigid member of his anatomy filled her.

His belt is already unfastened, the bulge that rests underneath it large, and she shivers at the thought that, soon, that bulge will be pressed against her. They shouldn't do this. They can't do this. She needs to stop, but his body is the drug that she can't quit using.

His lips are a whisper on hers, his skin sets her on fire and gives her sweet relief all at once. She bucks up towards him, begging him to close the tiny distance between their lower halves, lower belly burning with need for his attention. He doesn't give it to her; he's always been stubborn and in the moonlight that creeps in through the blinds, he's no different.

His lips trail from her bare shoulders down her stomach, liquid heat melting her into nothing. She needs more than just his lips. She needs everything- everything he has and she knows he needs the same as he works at her pants. He quickly gets them unfastened and down her legs and she's left in only her bra and panties in the cool air of the bedroom. Goosebumps begin to rise on her skin as she reaches for his pants, but his hands quickly wrap around her wrists and he traps them against the mattress on either side of her head.

"Uh-uh," he whispers against her mouth before capturing it with his heatedly. "Not yet."

 _/_

 _Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she tried to pull him closer, but he held her down softly. Her eyes closed and she moaned in frustration."Elliot…" The need to feel his body pressed against hers was so overwhelming that tears nearly pooled in her eyes. She needed him. Dear Christ, she needed him._

 _"Not yet."_

 _His lips dragged over her collarbone, suckling gently, leaving marks on her skin. She wanted to shove him onto his back and take what she needed herself, but he was too heavy on her, too insistent. She was helpless for him._

 _/_

His thumbs drag down her thighs and hook into the waistband of her panties. With one fluid motion, they're down her legs and tossed onto the floor. And then his tongue is where she so desperately needs his length, teasing her, penetrating her, forcing her hips to buck up towards his mouth and a breathy moan to fall from her lips. His strong arms hold her legs wide open as she tries to clamp them shut, the tingling in her belly growing unbearable. Her soft moans trip over each other and she's teetering on the edge when his mouth suddenly detaches itself from her.

 _God damn him._ She's shuddering under his body, shaking, aching for more so badly that she thinks she'll die if he doesn't make her come already. "Bastard," she whispers, but she can't move, can't get him where she really needs him.

"I know," Elliot answers, pulling the sheet over their bodies like it will hide his sins from God. The soft cotton slides along her calfs. His hands grip her thighs, pulling them around his waist as he finally buries all the way into her body.

 _/_

 _Elliot pressed his hips against hers, not entering her quite yet, teasing her mercilessly. Her legs locked around his waist, pulling him closer, trying to get him to just fucking_ ** _move_** _already, but he was too strong, too rigid. She was completely under his control and it both infuriated her and sent more pangs of arousal down her body. She didn't care who was in control anymore, she just wanted him buried deep within her._

 _Finally, he began to push forward slowly, stretching her body with his. A pang of discomfort shot through her, but he didn't yield, didn't stop until the tops of his thighs pressed lightly against hers. Oh, God. His body was on her, in her, all over her._

 _Her partner was fucking her._

 _/_

Her partner is fucking her. Soft, gentle thrusts quickly turn harder and more insistent. The sounds of their moans match the soft slapping of skin against skin and the groaning of the boxspring beneath them. Electricity fires through her body, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes and every time he buries fully into her, a little part of her breaks. _Oh, God, oh God_. She needs- that's it, just needs. Him to go faster, him to go longer, him to draw it out for hours like she knows he can and end it right now with the two of them shouting each other's names. Guilt has never felt better than this.

"Oh, God, El."

She knows he needs like she does. He's going fast and hard and his chest is shaking, breaths hitching as they fall past his lips and he's gonna come. He whispers her name, once, twice, then a third time, biting his lip as she meets each of his thrusts with one of her own.

Not much longer. It's not gonna be much longer now. Her arms grip him tightly, holding him to her desperately.

 _/_

 _His hands held her thighs tightly as he rocked into her, fast but hard, demanding her body to release. She wasn't far from submitting to him- her belly was contracting, heavy breaths tore from her chest. He was going to make her come and just the thought alone drew out an especially loud moan. She had never been a moaner. She had never made very many sounds in bed- not until he entered her for the first time._

 _/_

She's moaning again. Her fingernails dig into the skin on his back, leaving indents and nearly drawing blood, but he doesn't even flinch. His eyes close and his pace is incredible. It's going to happen. He's going to make her come and she's absolutely desperate for it, rules and expectations be damned. She needs her partner to make her come. Leaning forward, he pushes the gruff whisper into her ear that breaks her. "Let go, Liv."

And she does. The world around her shatters as her eyes slam shut, heat shooting from her aching core through her body. She's only vaguely aware of the moans that trip from her lips as the world falls away and her body rides out the tidal wave that he has induced.

The next thing she knows, he's laying beside her, still buried deep within her, stealing oxygen like he hasn't just breathed in days. His arm is around her waist, still holding her to his hot, slick, damn near shaking body. She can't even move- her legs are shaking and feel like Jello and she's completely pliant against him. He could probably fold her in half right now and she wouldn't even fight him.

 _/_

 _His phone chirped from its place buried in the pocket of his sweatpants, but he made no move to grab it as his arms wrapped gently around her waist._

 _"Your phone," she whispered._

 _"Leave it."_

 _So she did. She snuggled up closer to him, letting her eyes close as his hand smoothed up and down her back, further relaxing her sated, satisfied muscles._

 _/_

Elliot grabs his phone off of the floor. "Stabler," he rasps into the receiver without looking at the caller I.D. "Hey, Kathy."

She's still curled into his side, breathing into the darkness, wishing he'd put the phone away and just be with her for a moment, allow her to indulge in the illusion of a relationship that will never be.

Finally, he says goodbye and drops the phone.

"Eli." And his warm body is gone, his skin disappearing under layers of rumpled cloth once again, leaving her cold and bare. He doesn't spend the night. He has, but he never will again and these few moments in the darkness with his body wrapped up in hers are the closest she'll ever get to having him. They need to stop. They can't stop. So she watches him dress, watches him go, and waits for the time he'll be with her again.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. I've been stuck writing heavy for a while so it was nice to take a lil' break from that. Please comment!


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